


Popcorn and Pheromones

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [23]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27156859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: Tilda and I fail the Bechdel Test
Series: The Manse [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 1





	Popcorn and Pheromones

Having just spent the day out at the mall and having a guilt- and virus-free lunch and cocktails like in the Before Times, Tilda and I settle in on the sofa, surrounded by a nest of shopping, and start watching _Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein._

“This is quite terrible, isn’t it?” Tilda comments as we both nosh from a bowl of popcorn big enough to host a football game. “But somehow... it’s wildly entertaining.”

I shrug and munch. “I cannot believe Frank Darabont wrote this. I mean, I understand why he hates it; it’s not his kind of film at all.”

“And as usual, Ken’s roped all these great actors into doing it.”

“Ian Holm, John Cleese, Robert DeNiro... and Hugh Bonneville! For a hot second!”

“I think I can understand why people like it more now than when it was made simply because it’s the definition of camp and people do love their camp.”

I nod as we stuff our faces for a bit, watching as cholera is invading the city and Victor decides to stay behind so he can create his monster in his oversized attic laboratory full of what appears to be Tim Burton’s steampunk wet dream. Then something aggressively batshit occurs.

“Oh... oh my,” Tilda says.

“Oh my, oh my, indeed,” I say as we both lean forward and bask in the overly long scene unfolding before us. Victor is madly running and leaping around and through and on top of various dodgy pieces of metallic equipment... naked from the waist up. His glorious curly blond hair flows over his finely sculpted, beautifully bare shoulders. Sweat glistens off his toned abs and respectable growth of chest hair. Arms bulge with every chain he pulls, every heavy item he moves. It’s entirely ridiculous, but like a lava lamp, it’s mesmerising as hell. Both of our jaws have fallen and we can’t tear our eyes away.

“Well, hello, Kenneth,” Tilda says, fanning herself.

I lick my lips. “Ahh yes. This is the only reason I don’t absolutely hate this movie.”

We’re melting into our seats on the sofa right up until...

“Oh,” Tilda says, sticking out her tongue.

I blink and grimace as Victor starts wrestling with the naked monster in a pool of warm amniotic goo. I throw up my hands. “There’s the buzzkill. Oh Ken, what were you thinking?”

Despite this unappetising moment, Tilda reaches over and grabs a big handful of popcorn. “Well, at least we get a reminder of how buff Kenny used to be.”

My eyes roll back into my head in ecstasy. “I’ll say.”

There’s the sound of the door opening—the one connecting the kitchen to the garage. “Ladies, I’m home.”

“Speak of the Frankenstein,” I say, exchanging a winking glance with Tilda. “Good afternoon, Sir! We’re in here!”

Ken makes his way through the kitchen and into the living room, where as soon as he sees what’s up on the screen, he groans. “Oh, celebrating Halloween early once again, I see. This one always gives everyone a good scare.”

Tilda turns to Ken as he leans on the back of the sofa. She reaches out and strokes his arm seductively. “We were terrified alright. But you were so young and... dumb... but beautiful at the same time.”

Ken frowns and points at himself. “I’m not dumb anymore?”

I rub his other arm and smile up at him. “We were just admiring the one semi-redeeming scene of this whole film, sweetheart. I almost forgot how long it was. Thank you for that.”

Ken shrugs and glances back and forth between us. “I’m glad someone managed to squeeze some enjoyment out of it.”

“I’m sure you had fun making it, Ken,” Tilda says, patting his cheek. “It’s has all the Branagh earmarks.”

I tug his arm, bringing him closer so I can run a hand through his neatly styled hair. “Just... too many of them. But seriously, we love that you have such an irrepressible streak of whimsy within you. It’s adorable.”

Ken laughs nervously as I kiss his ear and Tilda does the same. “Clearly, there’s something sprinkled in that popcorn, ladies, because I’m sensing a profound fog of pheromones I am far too old to deal with.”

“Well, you may not be 34 anymore,” I say,“but I’ll vouch that you’re still in decent shape for a... _mature_ gentleman.”

Tilda hums behind her smile and gently squeezes Ken’s bicep. “He’s so shy and modest,” she says to me. “Must have been quite a surprise when you got him between the sheets that first time.”

Ken does a double-take between us and widens his eyes at me. “You told her about—“ He lowers his voice and jabs a thumb in her direction. “About... about _our relations_?”

“She already knew,” I whisper into his ear.“She’s sharp, you know. Like Sherlock Holmes. Only prettier.”

“Don’t let Cumberbatch hear you,” Tilda says. “Now run off you two. Get in bed before I press your faces together like Barbie and Ken dolls.”

“Ken is a doll,” I say, blushing.

Tilda nods. “I agree.”


End file.
